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GIFT  OF 
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Cf)e  Satire's;  Bream 

anb  d^tijer  ^oems 


BY 

ADDIE    L.    BALLOU 


PUBLISHED  UNDER  AUSPICES 


OF  I  i  i\;  ;  './        {)i' 


THE    PACIFIC    SHORT  StORY    CLUB;'.  ;.  i  j   ;, 

'    )    '      ^  >       .     ,     ,      .       .  -   .    •       J       ',     J        'j      1     J      '     , 


PRESS  OF  EATON  a  CO. 
SAN  JOSE.  CAL. 


Copyright,  1915,  by  Addie  L.  Ballou 


AODIE   L.    BALLOU 


(?ff     op    CkiS   of  l^i? 


The  Padre's  Dream 


(Canto  1.)     ■■•    •    •       •    • 

O'er  westward  bar  the  day's  ,  slow ,  tr^il ' 

Ebbs  with  the  tide  far  out  to  sea, 
And  drifting  clouds,  like  shifting  sail 

Unfurl,  and  pass  athwart  the  lea ; 
On  purpling  skies  in  crimson  fret 

Like  Nature's  burnished  armor-plate, 
The  sun's  low  disc  at  last  is  set 

And  sinks  beyond  the  Golden  Gate. 

Slow,  creeping  mists  of  night  arise, 

And  glinting  stars  creep  through  the  haze 
A  Padre  shades  his  eager  eyes 

And  seaward  turns  with  wistful  gaze; 
While  homing  birds  droop  low  of  wing. 

And  waves  the  wandering  curlew  toss. 
O'er  rocks  where  tangled  seaweeds  cling, 

He  notes  the  fateful  albatros. 

And  down  the  shadowy  aisle  of  years 

To  woo  with  retrospective  thoughts, 
A  craft  of  strange  device  appears 

Bearing  the  pilgrim  Argonauts. 
Dimly,  yet  clear  of  vision,  far, 

He  sees  these  spectral  shadows  pass; 
Pass,  and  repass,  with  sail  and  spar — 

Beyond  the  walls  of  Alcatras. 


93Q840 


He  sees  them  pass  o'er  rocks  and  shoals 

With  hulls  that  part  the  russet  waves, 
Bearing  the  astrals  of  the  souls 

Who  sleep  in  long  forgotten  graves. 
And  shadowy  shapes  "twixt  sea  and  sky 

Drift, in  on  the  horizon  line, 
Till  anchored  in'  the  bay  they  lie, — 

The  phantom  ships  of  forty-nine. 

O'er  mountain  range  and  dimpling  stream 

He  wanders,  down  the  hill-girt  coast. 
O'er  beetling  crag  with  cleft  and  seam. 

And  lingers  where  he  loveth  most. 
The   Indian  camp-fire  burning  low 

Curls  into  smoke  and  dies  away. 
The  bell's  low  tingles  come  and  go. 

The  bells  of  Mission  Monterey. 

The  dusky  maiden's  silken  tread 

And   contrite   sigh,   he  listening  hears, 
On  bended  knee,  with  drooping  head, 

With  lids  a-tremble    with  their  tears, 
And  liooding  crimson  o'er  her  cheek. 

With   heart  o'erwhelmed — to   make   redress 
In  penitential  grief  to  speak. 

The  sin  of  loving  to  confess. 

And  soft  as  falls  the  summer  moon, — 

In   lullaby  presaging  rest, 
He  hears  the  matron  soothing  croon 

The  coddling  drinking  at  her  breast. 
Roft  music  floods  the  vibrant  strings 

Where  sweeps  the  hand  of  dark  eyed  swain. 
With  voice  impassioned  as  he  sings 

The  songs  that  lovers  sing  in  Spain. 


And  yellow  o'er  voluptuous  hills 

The  silken  poppy's  oriflamme 
O'er  manteling  lies ;  the  landscape  fills 

With  hurnished  gold,  and  sweet  and  calm, 
Secure  and  blest  on  every  hand. 

And  herds  untrammelled,  wild,  increase, — 
And  rude  adobes  dot  the  land ; 

Primeval  all,  with  plenteous  peace. 

And  wanton  childhood  free  from  care, 

Lays  its  soft  cheek  and  dimple  down. 
Beside  the  seashell  pink  and  rare, 

To  sleep  on  sand-dunes  bare  and  brown. 
While  mellowing  o'er  the  vast  expanse 

The  day  slips  down  with  ebbing  tide, 
While  specters  of  the  past  entrance 

And  that  lone  figure  walk  beside. 

(Canto  2.) 

From   Shasta's  everlasting  snows, 

And  many  a  mountain  spring  unseen. 
The  broadening  Sacramento  flows, — 

Girdling  its  yellow  banks  between. 
A  toiler  bending  o'er  its  ledge 

Startles,  with  wide  eyes  to  behold 
A  flood-worn  pebble  at  its  edge ; 

Eureka !  it  is  seamed  with  gold. 

And  to  the  sanguine  metal's  lure 

Men  hasten  from  the  tranquil  east; 
Famine,  and  thirst,  and  drouth  endure, — 

Winds  the  long  train  of  man  and  beast 
Acrost  the  vast  unpeopled  land. 

And  plains  of  parching  alkali, — 
And  hot,  unwatered  stretch  of  sand, 

And  toilsome  mountain  reaches, — high. 


Oft  lured  to  cool  and  wooded  lakes, 

The  fateful  mirage  leads  astray; 
The  goaded  beast — nor  effort  makes, 

Falls  gaunt,  to  perish  by  the  way. 
Like  demons  from  a  lurid  hell, 

The  painted  savage  of  the  wild      ' 
Swoops  down  with  fire,  and  maddening  yell, 

Nor  spares  he  beast,  or  man,  or  child. 

Or  freezing  in  the  mountain  snows, 

Or  fever  famished  on  the  plain, 
Pursued  by  wild  and  treacherous  foes. 

Within  Death's  Valley  to  be  slain. 
And  still  they  press  with  westward  feet ; 

White,  bleaching  bones  no  terrors  hold ; — 
Death's  caravan  makes  no  retreat 

When  its  enticing  gain  is  gold. 

The  Star  of  Empire  leads  them  on 

To  front  all  hazards  without  fears, 
Shaping  a  destiny  their  own, — 

The  western  pilgrim  pioneers. 
And  in  their  wild  nomadic  life 

Bearded,  untempered,  in  the  rough, — 
Foreswearing  home,  and  child,  and  wife. 

Ox-like,  acquiring  sterner  stuff. 

Foreswearing  all  to  delve  and  moil, — 

With  deartli  of  woman's  tenderness, — 
W^ith  hope  surmounting  rigid  toil, 

A  loftier  manhood  in  duress. 
Immured,  yet  close  to  Nature's  breast, 

Forgetting  many  a  gentler  grace ; 
To  forge  from  evils  when  repressed 

The  sinews  of  a  newer  race. 


To  toil  and  moil  with  pick  and  pan, — 

And  crushing  mill,  and  sluices  run, — 
Till  greater  than  the  dreams  of  man 

The  guerdon  of  his  hopes,  is  won. 
Till  satiate;  greed  for  gold  is  spent, — 

And  filled  with  civic  enterprise, — 
And  yearning  for  home's  svreet  content; 

And  church,  and  schools  and  homes  arise. 


And  cities  quickly  spring  and  thrive 

Where  yesterday  was  wilderness ; 
And  men  for  civic  honors  strive 

With  pen,  and  speech,  and  printing  press. 
And  commerce  spreads  her  swelling  sails,- 

And   ships   go   east,   and   ships   go   west,- 
For  gold  is  gold, — when  all  else  fails, 

And  man  its  servitor  at  best. 

Where  on  the  frenized  ear  of  night 

Howled  the  coyote,  in  quest  of  prey. 
Or  bellowing  buffalo's  herded  Ihght 

Swept  unrestrained  for  miles  away, 
To  span  with  gyves  and  bands  of  steel, 

The   stalwart  western   sons   aspire, 
And  seek  with  pride  and  ardent  zeal, 

A  golden  statehood  to  acquire. 

The  knotted  years  with  devious  deeds, 

Trail  up  the  past  in  grand  review ; 
And  one  by  one  like  rosaried  beads 

The  fabric  of  his  dream  slip  through. 
Or  rocket  star  shoots  from  its  rest 

To  flash  a  moment  and  expire, 
These  raptures  in  the  Padre's  breast 

Wake  and  exalt,  and  then  expire. 


(Canto  3.) 

Then  o'er  the  crested  mountain  hight 

That  rives  between  the  east  and  west, 
A  cloud  uprose  like  mirk  of  night, 

Portending"  strife,   and   wikl   unrest, — 
And  threat  of  rupture  and  dissent 

And  rumbHngs  of  discordant  war, 
By  souls  misled  with  ill  intent 

To  rend  the  nation,  star  from  star. 

And  wilder  still  their  rancor  grows, — 

And  cannons  shriek  as  Sumpter  falls ; 
And  men  to  arms  to  meet  their  foes — 

Three  hundred  thousand  Lincoln  calls. 
And  foot  to  foot  and  face  to  face, — 

The  flower, — the  noblest  in  the  land, 
The  cherished  idols  of  our  race, — 

Brothers, — yet  foes,   for  battles  planned. 

Three  hundred  thousand  march  away ; 

Ten   thousand   homes   made   desolate, — 
Three  hundred  thousand  women  pray 

And  weep  betimes,  and  watch  and  wait. 
Three  hundred  thousand  wearing  blue. 

The  grey  as  many  more  in  train, — 
Each  to  his  own  as  brave  and  true, — 

Each  by  the  other  to  be  slain. 

And  then  the  clash  and  blare  of  guns  ; 

Hell    thundered    forth    its    deadliest   fire ; 
Congealing  crimson's  deluge  runs, — 

Men  turned  to  demons  racked  with  ire. 
Oh,  northland  stern,  or.  southland  dear. 

Mistaken,  yet  beloved  the  same ; 
Blest  and  united  many  a  year, — 

Bleeding  and  torn  in  Freedom's  name. 


As  Greek  meets  Greek  on  bloody  field 

Those  sons  of  revolution's  sires 
Were  met  to  die,  but  not  to  yield 

Till   death   should  quench  their  vital   fires. 
Like  shambled  slaughter  where  they  bled, 

With  war's  dread  eagle  shrieking  o'er, — 
With  shredded  banners  overhead, — 

Ten  hundred  thousand  rallying  more. 

God !  how  the  leaden  missies  rain ; — 

God,  the  mad  shriek  of  bursting  shell ! 
Red  run  the  rivers  to  the  main. 

Tinged  with  their  sacred  blood,  who  fell. 
Oh,  Pitying  Christ!  must  such  woe  come? 

Must  death  and  mourning  sit  within 
The  sacred  portals  of  the  home, 

To  shrive  a  nation's  scarlet  sin? 


And  patriot  woman's  pitying  hand- 
War's  wounds  and  fevers  to  assuage, 

Like  angels  o'er  the  stricken  land 

Write  a  rich  record  on  historic  page. 

While  men  will  war  must  woman  weep ; — 
Hers  is  the  heritage  of  woe 

The  nation  yields,  for  those  who  sleep 
Unwaking,   where   grave-grasses   grow. 

Man  seeks  for  glory,  woman  peace ; 

She  is  the  reflex,  he  the  star. 
Light  of  his  light,  nor  vigils  cease, 

While  he  pursues  the  arts  of  war. 
Woman  must  needs-be  rear  her  son 

A  warrior,  to  be  slain,  or  sung; 
Begot  in  turmoil,  when  her  travail's  done, 

Perhaps  a  murderer,  to  be  hung. 


Anon  the  gallant  golden  west 

Her  quota  of  brave  men  enrolled, — 
Flung  out  her  banner  with  the  rest, 

Unstinted  gave  her  tons  of  gold. 
None  faltered  in  a  cause  like  this. 

But  gold  was  cheap  and  men  were  dear, — 
Her  loyalty  was  not  remiss, 

Such  as  she  had  to  volunteer. 

Then  one  uprose  with  chastening  hand, — 

With  pen  of  fire,  and  like  a  God, — 
Wrote,— "From     henceforth.     Oh,     southern 
land ! 

No  blood  of  slave  shall  dye  thy  sod. 
Henceforth  that  name  I  do  erase ; 

The  sale  of  souk  no  more  shall  be. 
For  slave  I  will  a  man  replace, 

My  husky  people  shall  be  free." 

Oh,  rich  plantations  devastate. 

And  cities  laid  in  ruins  low ! 
And  homes  by  death  made  desolate. 

Yours  was  a  stricken  nation's  blow  ; 
With  one  tremendous  battlefield, — 

Honored,  though  vanquished,  and  to  cease 
All  further  strife,  at  last  to  yield 

A  fallen  army,  and  to  sue  for  peace. 

(Canto  4.) 
HUSH!!  to  the  roll  of  muffled  drum,— 

With  arms  reversed, — the  martial  tread, — 
All  honored  him. — now  speechless,  dumb, — 

Loved,  and  lament  a  Lincoln,  dead  ! 
"With  malice  toward  none,"  his  creed, 

"And  charity  to  all,"  and  then 
Crown  with  a  glory  his  great  deed. 

To  sleep  with  those  who  died  for  men. 


The  Padre  bent  with  reverent  bow, 

That  saintly  man  from  sin  immure, — 
A  shadow  deepening  o'er  his  brow, 

As  passing-  clouds  the  moon  obscure. 
And  in  the  attitude  of  prayer 

He  knelt  him  on  a  mound  of  moss, 
With  finger  on  his  breast  laid  bare, 

He  traced  the  signet  of  the  cross. 

(Canto  5.) 

Peace  follows  after  strife,  and  men 

Turn  to  pursue  her  gentler  ways, 
O'er  the  wrecked  wastes  to  build  again. 

Condone  the  idle  with  industrial  days : 
And  till  the  soil,  and  plant  the  grain, 

Fill  up  the  mills,  and  bridges  build; 
And  ladened  ships  to  cross  the  main, 

With  products  of  his  toil  are  filled. 

Fecund  the  matrix  of  the  west, — 

Rich  with  her  saps  before  untried. 
Yields  by  the  plowshare  rude  caressed 

Flushed  with  her  ardor  undenied. 
Blood  of  the  grape  by  winepress  wrung, — 

Apples  of  gold   from  orange  grove, — 
Oil  of  olives,  her  sweets  among, — 

Silks  from  her  veins  in  fabrics  wove. 

Coal  and  oil  from  her  riven  breast, — 

Choicest  marble,  and  onyx  rare, — 
Under  the  turf  no  foot  had  pressed, — 

Now  to  be  hewn  with  skill  and  care. 
Her  ships  of  commerce  span  the  seas,— 

And  red  her  founderies  fuse  the  ores. 
And  mint  her  gold,  and  every  breeze 

Sends  ladened  treasures  from  her  shores. 


The  tall  sequoyas  towering  high, 

Monster,  majestic,  forest  king, 
Flirt  with  the  stars,  the  storms  defy, 

Darkly  their  shade  o'er  the  mountains  fling, 
And  giant  trees  for  builder  falls. 

And  great  ships  build  for  war's  defense, — 
And  palaces,  and  stately  halls, 

And  citadels,  grand  and  immense. 


'■>  t>' 


Her  colleges  of  learning  rare, 

Send  lettered  pupils  o'er  the  land, — 
And  masters  in  the  arts  prepare — 

Scuptors  and  painters  deft  of  hand ; 
Her  galleried  arts  the  world  defy, — 

And  monuments  of  chiseled  art  — 
And  architectural  wonders  high. 

Their  strength  of  dignity  impart. 

So  thrived  at  last  the  golden  west, — 

Land  by  the  padres  first  acquired, 
And  prospered,  and  in  all  things  blest, 

Crad'ling  at  last  all  things  desired. 
A  smile  lit  up  that  reverent  face. 

Where  only  kindly  traces  dwell, 
As  dawn  o'er  darkness  steals  apace. 

He  murmured  gently,  "All  is  well." 

Oh,  Cuba !  fairest  island  gem, 

Born  of  the  land  of  Isabel ; 
How  could  you  in  that  hour  condemn 

And    strike    the    blow, — your    own    death 
knell? 
So  rich,  so  beautiful,  so  fair, — 

Mi  patria  carida,  child  of  Spain, 
So  false,  so  treacherous,  unaware, — 

So  cruellv  to  sink  the  Maine? 


O,  wanton,  wayward,  pampered  isle, — 

What  mock  conceit  of  human  laws 
Your  vanity  could  so  beguile 

Your  entrance  to  the  Lion's  jaws? 
What  pertinence  within  your  veins, 

Ran  riot  with  unwitting  wine, — 
To  so  forget  who  holds  the  reins 

Where  freedom's  stars  above  them  shine? 

You   should   have   known, — you   should   have 
known, 

What  recompense  from  you  was  due — 
Full  pay  for  every  dying  groan 

You  wrung  from  those  who  wore  the  blue. 
You  thought  to  thrust  a  bleeding  blade 

Or  flash  a  torch  with  midnight  flame. 
A  pastime,  for  a  light  crusade. 

And  easy  honors  to  your  name. 

Quick  to  avenge  her  slaughtered  dead. 

When  thundered  forth  that  blast  of  war, 
A  nation's  armies  rose  and  spread 

O'er  seas  to  other  isles  afar. 
While  thus,  the  Padre's  painful  muse 

Smote  anguish  deep  within  his  breast, 
As  autumn  leaves  the  zephyr  strews, 

Were  armies  moving  toward  the  west. 

And  staunch,  and  young,  and  lithe  of  limb, 

The  blossoming  of  every  State, 
Unfearing  dangers  gaunt  or  grim, 

To  Iialt  beside  the  Golden  Gate. 
And  shimmering  on  the  restive  night. 

Like  flecks  of  newdy  fallen  snow, 
A  thousand  tents  are  gleaming  white, 

Within  the  walled  Presidio. 


And  here  upon  united  field 

Are  met  the  sons  whose  sires  were  foes ; 
All  to  defend  the  nation's  shield, 

A  common  menace  to  oppose. 
Here  are  they  met,  but  to  agree ; 

And  on  the  same  sward's  livid  green, 
From  Oregon,  or  Tennessee. 

Press  to  their  lips  the  same  canteen. 

Above  the  past  Peace  spreads  her  wing, 

And  south  is  north  and  north  is  south,— 
No  more  shall   rancorous  venom   sting, — 

Together  face  the  cannon's  mouth. 
Between  them,  these  in  trappings  bright, 

Sons  of  emancipated  slaves, 
A  riven  country  re-unite, 

And  over  all  one  banner  waves. 

Transported  to  the  Orient, 

And  filled  with  patriotic  zeal, 
And  all  on  certain  conquest  bent, 

A  country's  wrong  to  right  and  heal. 
Wide  are  her  gates  for  all  oppressed 

Who  respite  seek  from  alien  shore ; 
Beware,  to  him  of  treacherous  breast, — 

Hands  off  God's  country,  evermore. 

And  Dewey  in  Manila  Bay, 

With  bursting  shell  and  leaden  rain. 
Proclaimed  with  victory  that  day, 

That  they  remembered  well  the  3>Iaine. 
With  Cuba  vanquished  in  the  east. 

And  Aguinaldo's  forces  checked 
Again  war's  clamorings  had  ceased. 

Triumphant  arms  the  flag  protect. 


\ 


A  cavalcade  of  marching  feet 

Through  archways  marvelous  and  grand. 
Down  San  Francisco's  flower-strewn  street, 

And  martial  strains  from  brazen  band; 
A  blaze  of  glory  flaming  bright 

From  harbor  to  the  city's  dome, — 
Electric  splendors  crowned  the  night, 

Columbia's  boys  to  welcome  home. 

The  Padre's  face  with  pleasure  flushed 

And  whispering  to  himself,  aside. 
While  yet  about  him  all  was  hushed, 

"Peace  to  the  living  hence  abide ; 
"Peace  to  the  dead  whate'er  their  creeds," 

Heaven  question  not  too  close  the  brave, 
In  tribute  for  heroic  deeds, 

Strew  flowers  upon  the  soldiers'  graves. 

(Canto  7.) 

Dawn,  from  the  silken  couch  of  night. 

Stole  velvet- footed  on  her  way ; 
Unsandalled,  and  enscarfed  in  light. 

Wooed  by  the  amorous  glance  of  day ; 
And  unrobed   slumber,  poppy-eyed, 

Loth  to  unveil  her  heavy  lids, — 
And  loth  to  turn  her  dreams  aside 

Till  full  orbed  day  repose  forbids. 

Oppressive  stillness  chained  the  air 

Like  calm  before  the  dread  simoon, — 
As  the  red  lightning's  sudden  glare 

Precedes  the  awful  thunder's  boom. 
Earth's  frantic  breast  uprose  and  fell, 

Her  long  pent  passion  fires  within  ; 
O'er-flush  her  veins  impatient  swell, — 

Her  loins  with  impulse  quivering. 


Clutched  in  convulsion's  fierce  embrace, 

To  crush  by  her  unbridled  power, — 
Or  half  a  continent  misplace, 

A  toppling  world  within  an  hour. 
And  crumbling  walls  with  crash  and  fall 

Hurl  hundreds  to  their  awful  doom ; 
And  terror  seizes  them,  and  appall — 

Enclose  them  in  their  living  tomb. 

And  here  a  mass  of  beings  hurled, — 

A  husband  or  a  wife  bereft, 
And  summoned  to  another  world 

One  taken,  and  the  other  left. 
Here  crushed  and  mangled  sightless  eyes, 

And  here  a  child  by  death  caressed, 
And  smiling  babe  in  mute  surprise. 

Seeks  food  at  its  dead  mother's  breast. 

And  then,  a  greater  horror  still, — 

Flamed  the  red  torch  of  livid  fire ; 
All  breasts  with  frenzied  terror  thrill, 

As  fiercer   raged  the   flames,  and   higher. 
And  on,  and  on,  as  demons  flit 

From  the  red  region  of  the  lost. 
Like  a  winged  dragon  from  the  pit, 

The  raging  element  is  tossed. 

^And  night  and  day,  and  day  and  night, 
N  Leaping  and  lurid  onward  sped, — 
And  then  the  crash  of  dynamite. — 

Like  carnival  by  devils  led. 
A  frantic  pageant  to  the  hills. 

Anguished  too  deep  for  mortal  tongue, — 
Unsheltered,  from  the  night-dew's  chills, 

Women  in  travail  cast  their  young. 


Awed  into  silent,  dumb  restraint, — 

O'er-looking  that  vast  homeless  waste, 
No  sound  of  murmur  or  complaint, 

Each  sorrow,  by  the  whole  effaced. 
In  haste,  above  that  dumb  despair, — 

From  sister  cities  far  and  near, 
Came  answer  to  that  hunger  prayer, — 

"You  shall  not  want,  be  of  good  cheer."' 

And  generous  hands  o'er  land  and  sea 

PVom  every  source,  gave  bounteous  store ; 
Blest  may  the  stintless  givers  be, — 

Heaven's   bounty   could   not   offer   more, — 
Till  all  the  multitude  were  fed 

Unsparingly,  and  clothed  full  well ; 
P'or  the  unsheltered,  tents  were  spread, 

And  dawning  hope  their  fears  dispel. 

Then  from  the  ashes  of  the  old 

Uprose  the  splendors  of  the  new ; 
A  grander  city  on  his  vision  rolled 

Transcendant,  on  the  Padre's  view. 
Above  the  mist  and  shimmerino-  throusfh. 

He  saw  the  spires  and  turrets  rise, 
And  gazing  through  celestial  blue 

Beheld  the  city  of  the  skies. 

An  angel  clasped  him  on  his  way 

Where  mists  of  earth  the  heavens  meet, 
And  whispered  "come,  no  more  delay," 

And  loosed  the  sandals  of  his  feet. 
And  with  a  smile  benign,  serene, — 

And  shimmering  light  his  brow  to  crown, — 
As  stars  go  out,  their  clouds  between. 

Death  closed,  and  kissed  his  eyelids  down. 

{Note.  This  production  zvas  read,  and  met 
7vith  the  zvarni  approval  of  "father"  Jas. 
McQitade,  of  San  Francisco,  Cal. — The 
Author.) 


Toast  and  Coffee 

it's  been  the  fashion  many  a  year 

To  toast  to  the  other  fellow, 
In  many  a  goblet  flowing  o'er, 

In  vintage  rare  and  mellov/ ; 
To  drink  remembrance  to  the  past, — 

In  cold,  or  torrid  weather. 
In  other  lands,  on  other  seas, — 

When  men  have  chummed  together. 

And  men  of  war, — in  times  of  peace, 

Rehearse  the  oft"  told  story ; 
And  fill  again  the  old  canteen, 

And  fling  aloft  "Old  Glory'"; 
And  gallant  deeds  are  ne'er  forgot, 

While  tenting  out  together, — 
And  toast  again  the  tie  that  binds 

A  comradeship  forever. 

Though   brief   of   speech,   or   wit,    or     song, 

My  greeting  to  you,  brother, 
Will  sparkle  little  of  the  wine, 

I'll  toast  you  in  another. 
I'll  pledge  the  old  tin  coffee  cup 

In  all  its  fragrance  steaming. 
In  memory  of  old  campfire  days. 

And  the  dreams  we  then  were  dreamins:. 


'&• 


Or  meet  you  in  a  friendly  hand 

Of  bridge,  or  whist,  or  euchre 
And  toast  you  always  to  success, 

A  winning  card, — and  lucre, — 
In  all  life's  undertakings,  "game"  ; 

May  well  earned  blessings  find  you 
A  long  and  loving  aftermath 

With  the  girl  you  left  behind  you. 

A.  L.  B.  for  G.  H. 


Harry's  Phone  to  Papa 

"Hello !  hold  the  line  a  minnte,  ' 

Some  one  wants  to  speak." 
Then  I  heard  a  little  fumble 
Soft  as  silk,  but  weak, — 
"Is  you  papa  ? 

I  is  Harry,  here, — 
'Cause  I  wants  you, — 

Come   home,   papa,   dear." 

Only  just  a  little  toddler 
Scarce  can  run  alone, — 
Stirs  my  heart  all  in  a  tumble, — 
Talking  through  the  phone. 
'Ts  you  papa? 

I  is  Harry,  here, — 
'Cause  I  wants  you, — 
Come  home,  papa,  dear." 

Gee !  but  it  is  worth  a  million, — 

Fifty  miles  away, — 
Without  lisping  break  or  stumble, — 
Just  to  hear  him  say, 
"Is  you  papa  ? 

I   is   Harry,   here, — 
'Cause  I  wants  you, — 
Come  home,  papa,  dear." 

San  Francisco,  Cal,  March  12th,  1907. 


Welcome  to  the  Fleet 


From  the  iner-nionster"s  covert  lair, — 

Majestic,  o'er  the  vasty  deeps, — 
Borne   by   the    west   wind's   tangled   hair, 

The  grand  armada  onward  sweeps. 
Or  whether  by  the  dawn's  allure, 

Or  sunset's  splendors  on  you  wait, — 
Or  sweeping  through  the  night  obscure, 

We  hail  von.  from  the  Golden  Gate.    • 


With  many  a  banner  flung  on  high. 

Whose  stripes  the  sunset's  glory  dim, — 
Whose  stars  eclipse  the  midnight's  sky. 

While  glittering  fires  our  shores  berim ; 
We'll  hail  with  pride  our  gallant  fleet, — 

Our  vigilante  of  the  deep ; 
We'll  fling  our  welcome  at  your  feet. 

And  yield  our  city  to  your  keep. 


To  us.  'tis  given  to  guard  the  land.— 

You  to  protect  the  sea's  approach, — 
But  all  as  one,  a  unit  stand 

When  foes  to  freedom  dare  encroach. 
We'll  greet,  and  hail  with  many  a  cheer 

And  echoing-  boom  from  brazen  guns, 
And  vie  vi^ith  each,  to  make  more  dear 

Your  welcome  HOME,  Columbia's  sons. 


Resurrexi 


Because  you  have  striven  and  stumbled, 

And  risen  and  fallen  again; 
And  your  spirit  is  riven  and  humbled 

And  is  bowed  by  the  censure  of  men; 

Because  you  have  erred  through  temptation ; 

Have  trampled  the  devious  way, — 
No  respite  have  heard  to  probation, — 

And  night  has  o'ershadowed  your  day, — 

Because  you  have  sinned,  you  have  sorrowed, 
And  learned  through  the  evil,  the  true, — 

The  angel  within  you  has  borrowed 
A  gleam  from  eternity's  blue. 

Because  you  are  you, — do  I  love  you, — 

A  spark  from  infinitude  flown ; 
And  my  spirit  well  knew  that  above  you 

The  heavens  would  call  to  their  own. 


Aftermath 


Oh,   my   heart   is    drear   and    weary, 
There's  a  smother  in  my  breast, 

And  my  eyes  are  parched  and  bleary 
From  their  tears  so  long  repressed. 

Oh,  my  heart  is  aching — breaking, — 
Though  my  lips  part  with  a  smile; 

With  my  neighbor  undertaking 
To  be  cheerful  all  the  while. 

And  my  brain  reels  with  the  pressure 
As  I  scan  the  ruined  waste, 

O'er  the  miles  of  smoldering  treasure 
That  can  never  be  replaced. 

Of  the  miles  of  ash  and  debris 

Where  palatial  mansions  stood — 

Miles  of  tangled  wires  and  debris, — 
Crumbling  walls  and  blackened  wood. 

And  a  fascination  binds  me 

Like   enchantments   ne'er    forgot, 

While  each  ruined  wall  reminds  me 
Of  the  City  that  is  not. 

Oh,  I  sickened  in  the  travail 

Of  the  mothers  who  gave  birth, — 

Through  the  anguish  and  the  peril. 
On   the   bare,   unsheltered   earth. 


Christ  was  born  within  a  manger. 
With  the  wondering  soft-eyed  kine, 

But  these  refugees  from  danger 
Could  no  sheltering  refuge  find. 

There  is  pathos  in  the  faces 

In  that  lengthening  hunger  line  ; 

Mingling  of  a  score  of  races, 

Age  and  childhood  want  combine. 

In  the  column  at  the  station 
Where  relief  is  meted  out, 

Each  his  turn  and  measured  ration, 
Young  and  old  take  turn  about. 


And  these  tented  camps  they  mind  me 

Of  those  other  years  ago, 
When  a  sterner  fate  consigned  me 

To  the  mercy  of  the  foe. 

O  to  hear  the  church  bells  ringing 
In  their  old  and  solemn  way, — 

And  the  romping  children  singing 

Home  from  school  in  boisterous  play, 

In  my  dreams  I  see  the  City 
In  new  splendor  rise  again  ; 

Phoenix  like  arise  completely, 
Fairest  City  among  men. 

And  before  my  vision  holding 

As  a  panoramic  sea, — 
And  a  phantom  wing  unfolding 

Lifts  the  City  vet  to  be. 


In  the  Gloaming 

I  am  living  alone  in  Seventy-Town, 
In  the  mists  of  the  twilight  grey; 

AVith  my  shaded  eyes  I  am  gazing  down 
Where  the  years  have  rolled  away. 

Far  down  below  lies  the  dawn  of  day, 

A  child  care-free  on  the  sands, 
With  blooms  and  birds  in  the  sunlight's  play, 

And  at  night  my  mother's  hands. 

There's  a  rippling  brook  and  a  clover  bed, 
And  the  shade  of  the  apple  trees, 

Where  I  used  to  drift  with  the  clouds  o'er- 
head 
To  the  drone  of  the  bumble-bees. 

There's  an  emerald  isle  with  its  treasure  of 
souls 

A-float  on  a  silvery  sea ; 
And  many  a  wreck  on  the  hidden  shoals 

Of  the  ships  that  were  coming  to  me. 

There  are  beautiful  songs  that  are  nevermore 
sung 

That  float  on  the  tremulous  air ; — 
And  pictures  rare  on  the  walls  are  hung. 

Of  the  castles  that  molder  there. 

I  am  standing  alone  at  the  outer  gate. 

The  night  dews  silver  my  hair, 
Still  over  the  years  I  dream  and  wait, 

Till  they  call  to  me  over  there. 

For  just  beyond  is  a  land  most  fair 
A-bloom  with  the  flowers  of  bliss ; 

I  soon  shall  pass — and  awaiting  me  there 
Are  the  treasures  Fve  lost  in  this. 


^'^L  /NCRE^Sg  ^^E  DATE  Ou^     rJ°   "^""N 


®^eNTH 


dav 


LD 


21-1 


95rn. 


7, '37  J 


Photomount 

Pamphlet 

Binder 

Gaylord  Bros.,  Inc. 

Makers 
Stockton,  Calif. 

PAT.  JAN.  21,  1908 


ri- 


930840 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


>^ 


